[Turning, with some violence.] You! you hurt my feelings! Nobody can hurt my feelings! I have no feelings—-!
[Ablett re-enters, carrying three chairs of odd patterns. Tom seizes the chairs and places them about the table, noisily.]
Ablett.
Look here, Mr. Wrench! If I'm to be 'ampered in performin' my dooties—-
Tom.
More chairs, Ablett! In my apartment, the chamber nearest heaven, you will find one with a loose leg. We will seat Mrs. Telfer upon that. She dislikes me, and she is, in every sense, a heavy woman.
Ablett.
[Moving toward the door—dropping his glove.] My opinion, you are meanin' to 'arrass me, Mr. Wrench——-
Tom.
[Picking up the glove and throwing it to Ablett—singing.] "Take back thy glove, thou faithless fair!" Your glove, Ablett.